Mister Pirate
by Microcrane
Summary: " can you see me, mister pirate? can you hear me calling out your name? who am i, mister pirate? tell me...i know you know who i am. "


the time he'd spent in impel down, crocodile concluded, was driving him quite literally insane. his vision was muddled, his body aching, his thoughts unclear, and the voice of a young boy was always whispering in his ear.

not one of the guards, not an adult, and not anyone he knew - no, not one. rather, it was the voice of a child, smooth and calming, as if trying to coax him. it told him such strange things; how he was always such a soft man but had never come to realize it, how he had always wanted to believe he was something he very well knew he was not, how his dreams were so unreal but he still held onto them, how the rats that scampered along the floor were eating and where they were sleeping.

it would always remind him of how his body was in reality made from the flesh of others, that these cells did not belong to him in all actuality. it would always remind him of how he had supposedly died in infancy years and years ago.

such strange things came from this boy, yet everything he said, crocodile seemed to agree with. it seemed almost as if he were talking to himself, in a way.

but there was one thing the voice said that always put him off - something it kept asking no matter how many times he had said he held no answer.

"who am i, mister pirate? call out my name and i can free you from this cell."

and no matter how much he wanted to answer the voice's pleas, he was simply incapable of remembering or even knowing what the boy's name was. the boy was his only welcomed company in the dark and depressing sixth floor, his words pleasant to the ear and his idle speech everything crocodile could possibly ask for to keep himself from boredom.

it was the least he could do for the boy, but he couldn't do it. and it infuriated him. he'd never felt his indebted to anyone before in his life.

"it's okay mister pirate, you'll know eventually. and then we can be friends, friends forever."

crocodile wasn't sure if it was because he was losing his mind but for some reason that sounded so appealing.

but it was the very day that the strawhat boy came running in that he felt sudden impulse - a sudden rush of strength and determination. the news of an intrusion gave him sudden and unexpected hope. in fact he felt it so strongly his heart felt as if it were attempting to leave his body and run off on him.

crocodile didn't even notice his chains disintegrate into sand, falling to the ground in all its gold and yellow glory.

he didn't even notice the guards piling outside his cell with guns and weapons at hand to secure him again.

it was only when the bullets were fired that his eyes widened and time seemed to slow down.

was it because he was about to die? people had always told stories about how seconds seemed to drag into minutes before death.

"no.

"i won't die. i refuse to die.

"i refuse to die such a pathetic death."

then it came again - then the boy's voice came again, giggling at him, but not mocking him. not at all.

crocodile suddenly felt his hand clenching onto something and in that split second before the bullets struck true, he suddenly knew exactly what his next words were going to be.

"i'll ask again. who am i, mister pirate?"

he swung the blade upwards, eyes suddenly mad with laughter and euphoria. the last of his shackles fell, and the bullets phased through him. how stupid of them not to bring sea prism bullets.

"i have to call out your name to do this? how lame." then he lunged forward, sword at the ready.

"who am i?! answer this and i will give you unparalleled and unique power!"

crocodile swung the blade, and opened his mouth to speak.

"encase them all...!" his lips moved to form the boy's name, and it slipped out as if he had been saying it all his life. blood flew into the air, he could sense the boy smiling.

"very good, mister pirate. now take your blade and use it well; the blade is part of you, as am i. treat us well."

crocodile felt the boy's presence leave, and he stared at his handiwork, the blade in his left hand having transformed into a large sword, decorated with gold. the blade, halfway to the top, formed a semi-circle; a khopesh.

"...a 'soul slayer' huh?" he snorted, shaking the blood from the weapon in question. "we'll get daz bones, and then we're leaving. and never coming back."

the sword seemed to glow in response and grains of sand began to slowly spill from the very end. crocodile grunted, before turning towards the sound of people fast approaching.

maybe he'd take them out too just to try it out.


End file.
